


Day 01: Arrival into Hell

by HH_BlueDynamite



Series: Alastor Week 2020 [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:35:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25688944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HH_BlueDynamite/pseuds/HH_BlueDynamite
Summary: Had this on the back burner for an origin fic for Alastor. Decided to do use this for Alastor Week instead because of the major writer's block.
Series: Alastor Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862839
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Day 01: Arrival into Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Had this on the back burner for an origin fic for Alastor. Decided to do use this for Alastor Week instead because of the major writer's block.

The Louisiana bayou is beautiful at night, light bugs initiating their courtship dance to chirping crickets and croaking frogs. The swamp air was warm, but…Alastor feels cold…empty inside. He had often trodden into the bayou whenever he felt this way. He hasn't felt this empty coldness in a long, long time. Even after he had started to kill. Perhaps, his conscious had finally caught up to him. Too little, too _fucking_ late. He is already too deep in. He didn't bother to change his bloody clothes when he decided to venture out into the swamp. How many has it been now? 10? 15? 20? He had lost track about a year ago. Not like anyone would find out, what with the rampant crime rates since the stock market crashed some years back.

Alastor remembered when he first heard the news. He read it to his audience, after all. While he too felt dread at the time, it was soon replaced with excitement. Something out of the ordinary occurred, shaking the status quo to the core. He hadn't felt such exhilaration since when the Mississippi River flooded back in 1927. Hell, since the Great War* when he was a teenager! Yes, he had helped his friends and neighbors who were affected by these events, as any law-abiding citizen would do, but he still enjoyed the chaos they caused. What happened in New York was no different, especially when it reached New Orleans.

When the stock market fell, everything fell into disarray…and it was amazing! Alastor almost couldn't contain the glee as he watched the bigots with too much time and money scrambling around to preserve their wealth and status that was nothing more than an illusion, poor yet accurate amalgamations of their feeble mind that they'll sacrifice everything to maintain, even their own family. Soon, everyone was affected. So many families had to sell off their children. So many orphans…

About a year into the chaos, his house was broken into. If he recalled, he was looking over his budgets, trying to maintain enough for bills and food ration, when two men barged in with knives and guns. They quickly overpowered him, forcing him to the ground at gun and knife point as they took everything of value he had. There wasn't much. While his mother was wealthy, which he inherited after she died, and his father preferred to live in the bayou, he was an average middle-class man. He did sell some items that are less important than living, so he wasn't all that bothered. In fact, he started laughing. Laughing at a pair of men who abandoned their morality once something didn't go their way. This isn't the first time. He had watched people turn against each other, steal from one another, selling their kids, and many horrendous things. The two men started to beat and kick him for laughing, but he still did, even when he started to cough up blood. Humans are cruel, cruel creatures.

And so was he…

And right now, he is tired…very tired…

He hears some rustling and two deer appeared, a buck and a doe. Such majestic creatures cursed to be prey for others. He remembered a voodoo talisman his father had made for him from a deer's vertebrae. He doesn't have it with him anymore. He given it back to his father, who is no longer here…

***BANG**BANG***

One bullet somehow missed his head while the other grazed his arm. He flinches, clutching his bloody wound and the deer pair ran off. He could hear the dogs barking and the shouts of the men hunting the deer.

"Don't lose sight of 'em! We'll lose 'em for good once they go deeper into the bayou!" one of the men exclaimed.

"We can't lose another deer. Not tonight!"

"I think I see another!"

More gunshots were fired at him, thankfully missing their mark, only grazing him. Another one? Where? He looks down at his shadow made from the moon behind him, the branches from the trees make it look like he has deer antlers. A dark feeling came over him.

They are mistaking him for a deer.

He runs off, despite the pain. He still wore a smile despite the pain.

The dogs inched closer to him with each erratic heartbeat thumping in his chest. In his haste and due to the moonless night, he ran straight into the murky waters of the Louisiana bayou. He coughed and sputtered, pushing his saturated brown hair from his face.

Oh, his glasses are gone. Probably now lost to the swampland.

His smile returned to his face, though more melancholy. He chuckled woefully.

His eyes widen as the dogs grew closer. Having no other choice, he starts to swim. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming… The dogs are in the water now, teeth bared. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming… The canines have bit into his pant legs. Just keeping swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swi—The dogs grabbed onto him, fangs and claws trying to rip and tear through him. He tries to push them away as they dragged him out of the water. They are biting and tearing, as though they were trying to get a piece of meat for themselves. It hurts. It hurts so much. Is this what it feels like to die. And then—

***BANG***

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Alastor barely felt the sensation of falling. By the time he did, he was already on the ground, facing up at the red sky. He laid there, motionless. Demons have noticed him but paid no heed, having to have grown use to other sinners falling into Hell. This is no different. Though, one demon was slightly curious.

It creeped over to the newcomer, inching close to his face. Suddenly, red eyes flashed opened accompanied by radio feedback, startling the other demon and it ran off.

Slowly, he sat up before getting to his feet, sore and with a splitting headache. Sore from the fall, probably. As for the headache…

Wait a minute… Shouldn't he be dead? Where is he?

He finally takes a moment to look at his surroundings. Nearly everything seems to be in various shades of red. Perhaps because of the sky, which has some sort of pentagram symbol, same goes for…the moon? Sun? Curious. It's obvious that he's not in New Orleans anymore, that much is certain, but it doesn't answer where he is and why there are so many strange creatures walking about. They look like something his mother would think up in order to scare him away from the deeper parts of the bayou when he was a child. A sign catches his eye.

Welcome to Hell.

Hell? As in the very Hell from Abrahamic tradition? If that's the case, then this is nothing like what he was anticipating. No being burned alive, no torture, not even a smell of brimstone. Well, there is some strange odor that makes his nose scrunch up. He doesn't want to know what that smell is. He doesn't remember the Bible saying anything about a section in Hell looking like a commercial area.

With a buzzing sigh—he failed to notice the strange sound—he runs a hand through his hair. Is his hair longer now? It was at that moment that he realized that his hands—claws—are black. His clawed hands are black and, halfway up his forearms, the black switched to plush red fur that ended at his elbows. His biceps are bare, showing gray skin. He then scans around, looking for anything resembling a mirror. A window nearby would do. He was astonished at his new appearance.

His face is just as gray, so it's likely that the rest of his body's skin is the same color. His eyes are red. Not just his iris, but also the entirety of his visual organs is red, with his irises being a brighter shade. His hair is no longer brown, now a dominate red with black tips, and has grown to his chin in the bobcut he's heard about. He has two big tuffs of hair that reminded him of deer ears. Intrigued, he reaches up to feel those 'ears'. Yep, they're ears. Between the ears are small antlers, like that of a juvenile buck. As with the ears, he checks to see if they're real. With a single tug, Alastor knew they were stuck to his skull. And lastly, while not the strangest thing about his new appearance (astonishingly), his teeth are now yellow and sharp. He dared to check his backside for a tail. He glares at the offending thing.

The red fur covering around his chest and back made him think of a vest with his neck and midriff bare. His legs are also covered in fur, red switching to black just below the knees, and his feet are cloven hooves, deer dewclaws acting as the heels. Thankfully, his private parts are covered.

"Hey, newcomer!" He felt his ear twitch and glances over to a large doglike demon. The very sight of it made his skin crawl and he fought not to run. "Ya might wanna find a place ta hide."

"For what reason?" he asked, mildly shocked when his voice sounded slightly distorted. It sounded like he was speaking through a radio. Somehow, that didn't surprise him much, given his career in life.

Even the dog was curious before he shrugged. "Not that I care, but the next Cleanse is gonna happen in about a couple of hours. So, if ya don't wanna be skewered by the Exterminators, then ya might wanna hightail it outta here, Skinny."

The deer demon watches the dog demon walk away, but his tense feeling didn't go away. "The next Cleanse?" Again, that strange distortion. Looking around again, he sees a clock tower in the distance. The time is 10:45 and judging from the shade of the sky, if it still functions like a normal sky, it's in the morning. Beneath the face of the clock is a countdown timer reading how many days is the next Cleanse: 0. So, this 'Cleanse' is today?

While not fully understanding what is going on, he figured it is best to find a hiding spot for now before anything else.

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Alastor's eyes quickly adjusted to the red hues and the neon signs and he's still trying to wrap his head around this new environment. Demons in all shapes and sizes roamed the streets, many look-like thugs and others look like flappers. One of said flappers, one-eyed with purple skin, spots the deer demon.

"Hey, handsome," she said sultry, leaning in close. Alastor stiffed up at the touch. The flapper took it as shyness. "What's wrong, honey? Never slept with a woman before? Oh my, did you die a virgin? You poor thing. Well, don't you worry none, Cherry Boy. Allow me to pop 'em for you while the Cleanse is happening."

"…Pop?"

Another flapper, green-skinned with horns and a tail, grabs Alastor's arm. "No, let me! I'm an excellent fellatrix."

"…Pardon?" the poor man was getting more uncomfortable by the second.

One more flapper, blue-skinned with four eyes and smoking a cigarette, pushes the other flappers away. "Ladies, you are scaring away a potential customer! Besides, we should be preparing for the Cleanse instead of looking for work right now." Alastor was relieved to see someone with some sense. That is until she scans up and down at him with an amorous look. "You can stay with us to wait it out. And perhaps all three of us can show you a good time afterwards, hm?" Her companions giggled.

Okay, that's it. He's had enough!

"While the notion is quite flattering, I'll have to decline, ladies," Alastor said as he starts to back up. "You see, I have no interests in such acts of—" his back hits something large and hard. His smile brittle. "—intimacy?"

Towering behind him are two bulkier demons, one dark blue and the other red. "Not into women, friend? That can be arranged," Dark Blue said.

"Although, you look like you'd be doin' the _catching_ rather than the _throwing,_ " Red said before laughing. Dark Blue joined him in the guffaw, revealing their jagged teeth.

"Ha-ha, I appreciate the offer, gentlemen. But I'd best be going! Toodles!" 'Skinny' dashes away, making a quick, mental note on how fast he is. He's much faster than when he was alive. He uses his newfound speed to get as far away from the area as possible. It's probably best to find an area with lesser people and lesser… filles de joie.

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It's a quarter 'til 12 now and the deer demon was able to find a suitable hiding spot for this 'Cleanse', an abandoned cellar beneath a ruined building. It was damp and smelled of old liquor and wet dog… Alastor starting to hate dogs all together. Despite his own inclinations, it's better than being out in the open.

He was able to find a tattered cloth appropriate enough for a blanket and takes residence in a dry enough corner. He seats down, leaning against the cobblestone wall and wraps the blanket around his shoulders.

This is so…strange, to say the least. The fact that he is indeed in Hell and with a new look to boot is still trying to process in his head. What should he do for food, or water? Will he even suffer from starvation or dehydration…? He doesn't want to go through that again…

Soon, his eyes started to grow heavy. Why? Wasn't he killed not too long ago? He guessed being dead doesn't equal to sleep. He decided to lower down on to his side. He looks at his hands again. He clenched them into fists, his now clawed hands pricking his skin. What he did in life was wrong. Yes, he was desperate. So very desperate. So very hungry. But, it was wrong. Now, he's paying the price for it. He's in a strange new world with an equally strange new form and nowhere to go.

He sighs. "No use crying over it. Might as well live with it," he muttered softly.

Soon, drowsiness finally took over, his last waking thoughts being to sleep this 'Cleanse' over and go on with his new, hellish life.

In his sleep, his shadow morphs to a more twisted form as a radio noise grew heavier.

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***BANG***

He sprung awake, expecting to see the barrel of a gun directly at his face, pointblank. When he doesn't see a gun, he sighs in relief. It then occurred to him that his arrival to literal Hell has not been a dream.

Then, a strange sensation came over him and he could feel his ears twitch.

Something is coming…And he felt an urge to run…

The cellar doors burst open and a group of demon run in before one of them slams the door back. "You're lucky that an Exterminator didn't spot us you idiot."

"Say's the palooka that shout 'RUN' at the top of his lungs."

"Who you calling a palooka?"

"Who ya think?"

"Who's that?"

The group finally noticed the deer demon in the cellar with them. He smiled nervously at them, unsure what to do. "What a minute, I've seen this bloke before," one blue demon said.

"Where?"

"Over at the red-light district."

"Him? He don't look like a whore…I think."

"I think he's a fresh dead."

"A new sinner, eh?"

"Huh…" one gives the stag a look over. "He ain't that bad to look at. Maybe we should take him back to the district." What? "He could get us some good money."

"Eeeeh, something tells me he's a cherry boy."

A demon snickers. "That's an easy fix."

Oh, crap.

"No…" Alastor muttered, again no distortion. The demons stalked closer as collective chortles emerged from their throats. His heart started to beat rapidly. He's not sure if he'll start to hyperventilate.

Then, something snapped and his shadow behind him enlarged and the antlers grew. The shadow's face bares a twisted grin, mimicking it's owner. Soon, more shadows began to form. A heavy static overtakes the atmosphere around them.

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***GONG**GONG**GONG**GONG***

This year's Cleansing is finally over. As the bell tower tolled, the Exterminators fly back up to Heaven, they're job done.

As fireworks flared in the air above, a fair, lovely demonbelle emerged from an emporium shop. She is slim, wearing a nice, gray red colored dress with cult sleeves in a lighter shade. Her light blonde hair is in an elegant updo hairstyle with a picture hat to match to her dress. Her eyes are black with no iris and she has a smile on her face, revealing pearly sharp teeth, which oddly adds to her beauty. In her hand is a black/gray-red parasol.

She hums a tune as she walks down the street, gracefully avoiding the bloody heaps of unlucky demons, as though this was a normal stroll. It wasn't long until she started to hear something strange. It sounded like radio static and at first, she thought the news was about to begin with Tom Trench and Lara Lynch on the latest Cleanse. But the sound static sound was incredibly distorted. Intrigued, she walks to the source. As she drew closer, the droning radio noise grew louder. Deep in an alley way, she spots an interesting carnage.

A dead demon.

And not just one or two, but several. All mutilated and dismembered in so many ways. While it's not an unusual sight, something else intrigued her. In the middle of the corpses stood a man. A man she didn't recognized. He was slim and there were strange sigils floating around him. It wasn't long when the demonbelle was able to pinpoint the source of the radio sound. The suffocating buzzing is enough to drive a demon mad. It's a good thing that she is no ordinary demon. The man didn't seem to notice the woman walking closer to him, that is until he turned his gaze to her. In the blink of an eye, the demonbelle was shoved to the wall, a clawed black hand tightened around her lean neck. Despite this, her smile never faltered nor was she afraid. Her void like eyes gaze at the face in front of her.

The deer demon's dark eyes had dial tones in place of his pupils and his grin stretched ear to ear. His antlers extended out like looming tree branches. A dark red substance drip from his yellow, sharp teeth. And from his eyes, a likeness to tears.

The demonbelle tilted her head. "Oh, you poor thing," she said, her voice calm and soothing despite the apparent danger and her smile still present. She lifts a hand to the man's cheek, wiping away the substance with her thumb. "It looks like you've made a bad decision. Heh… You're not the only one here in Hell." Her comment wasn't out of sympathy, but more of pity.

Something within the man seemed to come undone as he let go of the woman and fell to his knees. Lithe, yet strong arms kept him from fully collapsing until the woman eased herself to her knees and allowed the unconscious man's head to rest on her lap. She then goes to caress his red/black locks. His eyes are closed, dark circles beneath them, and his smile is gone. She looks at the dead demons again.

She giggled. "Aren't I lucky to have found someone like you."

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For the third time that day, the deer demon wakes up, but this time in a soft bed. While still in a foggy state of mind, he could hear two female voices with English accents.

"Rosie, is this really such a good idea?"

"Come now, Franklin. He could be of use to us."

"Use to us… He could be working for the Countess or Magnum for all we know."

"Somehow, I doubt that."

His eyes fluttered opened. His vision was blurry at first, but it wasn't long until it cleared up a bit. He made out two feminine figures, one in a gray-red dress and the other in a pastel green dress.

"And what makes you say that?" the woman in green asked.

"One would call it instinct, I suppose," The woman in red answered.

The woman in green turns around. "It looks like our guest is awake."

"So he is," the woman in red said. "Go man the front desk while I speak with him."

"…Very well." As soon as the green woman left the room, the red woman sat in a top grain leather armchair next to the bed.

"Are you well rested, monsieur?" she asked.

A French speaker, ey? The deer demon was lucky that his mother had taught him some French.

"How long was I asleep?" Alastor asked.

"Nearly 24 hours."

A whole day has passed since he arrived in Hell. He moves to set up, taking notice of a new, white shirt with long sleeves.

"I took the liberty of changing you into something clean and comfortable as you slept."

"Apologies, my lady. I do wish you had not seen anything horrendous," the man apologized.

"There is nothing to fret about. And, please, call me Rosie. I am the Overlord of this area," Rosie insisted. "If you are curious as what that is, you could say that is an exceptionally powerful demon. And what do I call you?"

"…Pardon?"

"What is your name? Or do you prefer to have a new one?" Rosie asked. "Many sinners who arrive here in Hell tend to change their names as a way to leave their life behind them. I had a different name when I was alive, but I decided to go by Rosie."

Red eyes blinked. He thought about it for a moment. He liked his living name. He loved how his mother would say it and when the people of New Orleans greeted him after one of his shows. But, this is a new life, more or less. Still…

After contemplating for a bit, he decided.

"I have no reason to change my name. It is Alastor, my dear. My name is Alastor."

**Author's Note:**

> My Character Analysis video on Alastor will be out later today at noon in EST.


End file.
